


heaven in a wild flower

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: Meet Me in the Woods - Lord Huron (Song), Original Work
Genre: Character Study, Disturbing Themes, Existential Angst, Gen, High School, Horror, Inspired by Music, Jukebox Treat, Mystery, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-02-15 14:31:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18671593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: There's nothing in the woods that wasn't there the day before. Which is kind of the problem.





	heaven in a wild flower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chillydown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillydown/gifts).



> Title from William Blake's _Auguries of Innocence_ , where the verse "weaves a bower in endless night" originated.

He's doing it again. He's starting to believe there's something in the woods other than, you know, _woods_. Wild animals. Normal things. There's nothing in the woods that wasn't there yesterday, or the day before, or the day they moved to this town in the first place.

He's still petrified. He ignores it.

*

"You're not still going in there, are you?" Nancy asks. They're not really friends, but they eat at the same cafeteria table more often than not. That probably makes them something more like acquaintances, never mind they've gone to the same school for close on four years now.

He finishes chewing before saying, "Why do you say that?"

"So you have been going in there." It's not a question.

Nancy has a way of saying things that cuts deep to the bone. If Jesse were a different kind of person, he might just fall for her, but he hasn't in the dozen years their families have lived in the same town and he doubts it's gonna happen now.

Instead of saying what he's really thinking, and what he's thinking is _it's none of your business_ , he mutters, "There's nothing in there." He wishes he could watch Nancy's eyes for her reaction, but he's rather scared of what he'd find there. Sometimes it's better not to see it with your own eyes, because then _you'd know_.

With a weary sigh, she says, "Promise me you won't go in there anymore." He can feel her eyes boring into him, so he gives in and glances at her across the table.

"Sure," he says mildly. Promises are for friends, and they're not friends.

Nancy gives him a look, but doesn't say anything else. After all, their subpar cafeteria food is getting cold.

*

His folks can't afford a second car for him to drive himself to school in. His parents obviously get to take the family car to work. His little sister takes the bus. The bus is fine for Jesse, too, only sometimes he misses it on purpose to walk the four miles to their house after school.

High Point, Indiana, isn't much to look at from the outside. Jesse remembers pitching a fit as a spoiled five-year-old being taken away to live in rural Indiana from sunny California, and seventeen-year-old him perfectly understands why. Rainy, muddy trails and the lack of anything _to do_ is only the start of it, and it doesn't get any easier once you're faced with high school graduation in less than three months.

In fact, High Point, Indiana, is not much to look at from the inside either. Under normal circumstances, Jesse would be counting down the days until he could get out, only—huh. _Only._ It's strange, but sometimes, as he's walking his bike home by the side of the road, the wind whistling through the leaves, he doesn't feel like leaving just yet.

*

It must have been a noise to wake him. It's so dark it doesn't seem entirely possible for sound to travel, though. In deep space, there is no sound, nothing to vibrate.

The darkness around him is too much like pitch, viscous and incessantly lacking in light. Which is strange, because the light in town during waking hours unsettles him in a way that the pure blackness of the sky at night never has. Right now, the lack of light is too sudden, too much for his eyes, too much for his entire being.

Under the covers it's warm and safe, or as safe as he's ever felt since he was a child, but, despite this, Jesse gets out of bed and stands on shaky legs.

When his parents will be phoning the school someone in administration will be in charge of going from classroom to classroom, asking if Jesse Walsh is there. Someone in his year will tell them Nancy Thompson is his best friend, his girlfriend, someone who knows something, but no one will have anything to say that's worth knowing. No one will know what happened.

*

There shouldn't be any light filtering through the canopy of leaves.

(Fallen branches prick at the soles of his feet.)

But if there isn't any light, then how can he see in front of him?

(The pain in his feet isn't that bad.)

*

Regular admission envelopes should be arriving any day now. Jesse has been considering UChicago for the better part of a year, although there's still a part of him thinking California at Berkeley on academic scholarship sounds like a dream. He doesn't want to toot his own horn, but his odds are pretty good.

_Think happy thoughts, dumbass._

(He opens his eyes.)

His little sister is kind of a pain most of the time, but she's a good kid. He thinks back to their last argument. He apologised afterwards. It was both their faults. She's going to cry when she figures out he's gone. They won't tell her, but she'll know. She's always been a smart kid.

(The thing staring at him is perfect from its first to its very last detail. It's flanked by what Jesse thinks might be two ash trees. For as much as he can see, such details escape him. In the end, it doesn't actually matter. He supposes nothing much matters anymore, certainly not Jesse himself. It's a strange thought to have.)

He cares for his parents, he supposes. He's always cared for them in a distant sort of way. It's difficult to articulate even to himself what a child's love for his parents feels like, or should feel like.

(It occurs to him the sounds disturbing the shaking leaves are his own shrieks. And they might be vivid, these sounds he's making, but they quickly become vividly distant, like a memory of a soap bubble waiting to be popped.)

Before now, he never knew his bones could hurt from screaming.

*

They tell him he's been gone for three days. Huh. It feels like no time has passed at all, which might be something to think about. Something to think about _later_.

The darkness doesn't scare him. It's how much of the thickly running dark is truly inside him now that's got him petrified. But that's as easy to ignore as it's always been.

Somewhere, someone is crying, and he doesn't feel a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> ETA June 27th 2019: I [tumble](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com) again. If you wanna chat or whatever. I'm Highsmith#6255 on Discord, too.


End file.
